


not my type

by katocchi



Series: alphabits [12]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Pre-Relationship, boomer/bubbles mentioned, brick's a simp and won't admit it, butch/buttercup is my ship but brotp for now, set in high school but not a high school fic, somewhat canon compliant, spoiler: they don’t get together together at the end but they move forward a bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29128122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katocchi/pseuds/katocchi
Summary: Despite everyone's insistence, Blossom Utonium is definitely not Brick's type, and he's miffed enough to make a list detailing exactly why.
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Series: alphabits [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534889
Comments: 40
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

His brothers think he's dense, but he's not. He's _not_ , okay? He knows what they're doing―scheming like a pair of shits―and he'd like to say that he's not as ignorant as they believe. He sees the sly grins Butch and Boomer exchange when they think he's not looking, and when Bubbles and Buttercup join in, the laughing worsens.

Every time he interacts with a certain Blossom Utonium, he has to talk over muffled snickers, wondering if she can see their siblings elbowing each other in the background. Does she ignore them, or is she too focused on whatever _utterly fascinating, isn't it, Brick?_ thing to notice? The second possibility is more likely than one thinks; her eyes widen and sparkle, and sometimes she starts floating subconsciously until he takes her shoulders and grounds her. A small, bratty part of him hopes her sisters tease her as much as his brothers bother him.

They act like he doesn't have eyes. For the record, he sees Blossom. He just doesn't _want_ her. She's not his type. Like, sure, she's pretty and all―he's not blind or stupid―but they never got along until recently, and now he tolerates her presence at best. It's because the youngest two are dating and the middle two are rivals, which is synonymous with _best friends_ despite their arguments, so as the oldest two, Brick and Blossom have to make peace.

It's all for the sake of convenience.

Eating lunch together is convenient because they share a lunch block and developed a working trade system: he gets her favorite cookies, and she gets his favorite sandwich. The swap happens one day out of the lunch menu rotation, but they have to sit together all the other days just in case. Studying together is convenient because they have the same classes. It's not like he can ask Boomer to quiz him on AP Bio concepts or Butch for...anything, really. And walking her to classes or to the lockers is (again) convenient because her destinations are on the way to his. If anyone pays a little extra attention and points out that they aren't, then, well, Butch's coach always advises extra exercise.

C'mon, if anyone wants to talk about denial, he can easily point towards Butch and Buttercup. Sometimes Butch calls her _Butterbitch_ , and the insult sounds startlingly intimate coming from his mouth.

"Big bro!" Boomer calls from downstairs.

Brick stops tossing his basketball into the air.

"The girls invited us over for dinner tonight! Are you coming?"

Right, the dinner Blossom texted him about earlier. He said he'd think about it. There's that tricky test tomorrow, and Utonium dinners are known for becoming movie nights or―on Fridays―sleepover nights, a tradition that the Professor gets less and less comfortable with as the years go by. He should study.

But if he doesn't go, Blossom will get sad and Bubbles will send him those dumb teary emojis, and let it be known that that Brick Jojo never makes girls sad. His eyes flit over to his backpack. Maybe he could bring his work. Get through flashcards while everyone settles in some two-hour sap fest Boomer chooses for his turn.

Boomer calls Brick's name again, then pauses. "Um, Butch and I are going in a few minutes if you wanted to join us."

Brick pushes his books into his bag and tugs at the zipper before he can change his mind. "Coming!" He makes his way downstairs and snags his keys by the door. "S'posed to rain tonight. We'll take the truck."

.

.

.

Brick would describe tonight's dinner as a disaster. A complete and absolute disaster, and when he throws his keys onto the kitchen counter, he hopes his frustration is evident through the clattering of metal. Crossing his arms, he leans against their messy dining room table and levels his brothers with the most scathing glare he can muster without activating laser eyes.

"Tomorrow," he seethes, "we are going to make a giant tray of pancakes and deliver it straight to Professor Utonium's office. Your behavior tonight was absolutely abhorrent."

Butch and Boomer mouth the words to themselves, and Brick resists the urge to pinch his nose bridge.

"Abhorrent, adjective meaning repulsive, disgusting, or horrifying. Synonyms―" he points two fingers in their direction― "you dipshits."

"It wasn't even that bad." Butch scoffs, scowling at the cabinets above Brick's head. "We've said worse before."

"But never at the Utonium dinner table! I don't care what you say anywhere else, Butch, but you made gross comments in front of his face. As he was scooping you your favorite mashed potatoes! We were guests on thin ice before. I wouldn't be surprised if we were ordered to stay from his girls and never invited over again."

Butch at least has the decency to look ashamed. Boomer throws his hands up placatingly. "Okay, okay, we'll make pancakes―two trays of his favorite pancakes―and ask for his forgiveness."

"You better apologize to Blossom, too. She didn't deserve to be treated like that in her own home. God, the look on her face―"

"Oh, so that's what this is about?" Butch snorts, green energy starting to crackle along his fingers. "You mad 'cuz we embarrassed you in front of your girlfriend?"

An invisible force edges Brick backwards, the beginnings of a shield manifesting from Butch's anger. Brick tries to squash his own growing anger, but he tastes smoke in his mouth, feels fire in his throat. Boomer places a hand on each brother's chest as they draw closer.

"No, I'm mad because you embarrassed all of us in front of the only family that's kind enough to _make sure we stay alive_."

"Guys, let's calm down a little," Boomer pleads, towering over both of them but still helpless. In the back of his mind, Brick feels bad for their youngest; he'll buy some rocky road ice cream later. "Maybe we should step back and talk about this later, yeah?"

"As if!" Butch sneers. Energy spreads to his elbows. "Then why not make us apologize to Bubbles, too? Buttercup? You're being butthurt 'cuz your Blossy-Wossy got upset."

"Then go apologize to them! I was suggesting Blossom since you, oh I don't know, directly disrespected her in front of her dad?"

Butch only crosses his arms and simmers. Wow, so the idiot _does_ know when he's in the wrong. "Can you stop being blind for two seconds, get your head out of your ass, and ask her out before someone else does?" he mutters.

"Don't change the subject, Butch."

"I don't know why she still fucking waits for you."

"She's not waiting for me or for anything; we're just friends. You two needa get out of my business. She's not my _type_ ," Brick hisses, "so just drop it, okay? What, do you want a fucking list detailing exactly why I don't like her like that?"

"Sure, why not? Maybe then I'll know the lame excuses you make for being such a bitch."

"What he means," Boomer interjects with a warning push against Butch, "is that it'll help. We're confused on why you insist on being friends when it's so clear you both like each other."

"We don't―fine. Fine!" Brick slams one of his notebooks onto the table and rips out a sheet of paper, disturbing the stack of bills. "You want a list? I'll give you a list."

Ignoring his brothers' curious gazes over his shoulder, Brick scrawls a title onto the top line. His handwriting is messy but still legible: _Reasons Why Blossom Utonium is Not My Type_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to say that i'm likely the least qualified person to write for the ppg fandom. all i know about the characters comes from decade-old memories, carriedreamer's _as time goes by_ , leecheedoodle's art, and various fanworks. apology chili and football player butch and elmo brick are part of my canon now. despite my appalling lack of qualifications, i hope you'll enjoy this story. leave a comment/kudos!
> 
> note: as part of my 2021 resolutions, i finished the first draft/skeleton of this story before posting the first chapter so i can have a regular update schedule and finally complete a story without going on hiatus. this story will be updating every monday and has a total of 12 chapters. check out my ffn bio for more info on alphabits!
> 
> next chapter: _her name is fucking blossom._ feb 8, 2021.


	2. Chapter 2

_1\. Her name is fucking Blossom._

* * *

Mrs. Silva has the worst reputation of the English department, and with greying hair twisted into a low bun and thin reading glasses that perch on the edge of her nose, she definitely looks like the kind of teacher to shush you for thinking too loudly. But Brick thinks she's okay. Doesn't assign too much reading, lets them choose essay themes―the only things he really cares about. He gets it, though. Mrs. Silva gets a bad rep because she insists on arranging her classroom in rows, an unpopular decision, and on assigned seating, an even less popular decision. And rather than last names, she organizes by first names, so for two very unfortunate years, Brick and Blossom get to be neighbors.

He can think of so many names between theirs. Blythe, Bob, Bohdi, Brad, Brianna are only a few possibilities, but no one by any of these names ever graced Mrs. Silva's roll call. Eventually, Brick accepted his fate and tried his best to make the experience awful for his counterpart, too.

But after one semester, their scathing remarks turned into sarcastic banter upon the realization that they were the only ones who could challenge each other. It's not _his_ fault everyone's scared to contradict him. After a second semester, the sarcastic banter evolved into actual conversation, though Brick made sure to antagonize her every now and then. One, because it's the Jojo brand, and two, because she makes better arguments when she has something to prove. A sassy know-it-all is fun to rile up, especially when he makes her angry enough to accidentally freeze over her desk. Over the third semester, Brick fell into their easy routine.

So at the start of the fourth semester, when he discovers the _intruder_ , he waits for someone to jump out with a camera, yelling, _Hah, ya just got pranked!_

His name is Brandon, and as per Mrs. Silva's dumb rule, he's the first wall between _Blossom_ and _Brick_. Blossom and Brandon. Brick with whoever this over-excited girl is.

Now that he thinks about it, Mrs. Silva did mention something about new students before they left for winter break. Said that...said...God, maybe he should stop tuning her out. He vaguely remembers shrugging when she asked about them. What a mistake. Maybe if he and Blossom complain to their teacher―

A red bow brushes by him at the door as the eldest Powerpuff walks in with her customary smile. She sets her bag on her seat and sticks her hand out to the new students, unfazed. "Hi, I'm Blossom Utonium," she says, all politeness and cheer. "Welcome to Townsville High."

"I'm Brandon. This is my twin sister Brooke." The kid stands to take her hand with a reciprocating grin that makes Brick roll his eyes. Two seconds in, and he's already victim to the good girl charm. "Nice to meet you. We didn't expect to transfer in the middle of the school year, but here we are. That's not too weird, is it?"

Fun fact: Mrs. Silva isn't the only one with a bad reputation. The Jojo brothers used to be the hottest topic in the faculty room. Their teachers stick tardy slips on the whiteboard, unofficially called the Wall of Shame, so obviously Brick and his brothers treated it like a game, racking up as many as they could with the silliest excuses. It became so expected that the school secretary prepared a stack for them to swipe and fill out on the way to class everyday. Lates became absences became detentions became suspensions, and the threat of sending a letter home didn't scare them when Mojo Jojo and Him were in prison.

Blossom wedged her way into his schedule when behavioral records and poor grades threatened expulsion. What was her reason again? Wanting to talk about the reading before first period, soundboard her theories―probably stupid things, knowing her. Still, he started coming in earlier and earlier...for intellectual purposes and to get on Blossom's nerves by playing devil's advocate, not to be a goody two-shoes like his teachers claim.

The scene before him―the mindless small chat and disgusting friendliness, reasons why he hated coming on time―is enough to make him revert to old ways, so he spins on his heel to head back to the hallways. Maybe he can grab a coffee and muffin from the other side of town. Maybe stroll through the park and make it back in time for second period. If he gets Blossom a chocolate chip cookie, she won't be too mad, right?

As if she can hear his thoughts, Leader Girl herself darts over before he makes it out the door and snags his elbow. She pulls him forward, closer to the twins despite his resistance. Stupid super strength. He could dig his shoes into the ground and break out of her hold if he wanted to. Still. Stupid super strength.

"And this is Brick Jojo! Feel free to ask him any questions you might have, Brooke."

If he glares any harder, he might actually burn his counterpart's face. The corner of her mouth twitches in response, and he has an itching feeling he wouldn't hear the end of it later if he refused, so he crosses his arms with a huff. She drops her hand.

"Hi," he says, not looking at any of them. One door behind him. Three windows along the far wall and two in the back of the classroom. Can he make it out any of them before Blossom catches him? She pokes him in the ribs. " _Hi_ , I'm Brick."

"This is so exciting," Brooke coos, fingers toying with the ends of her long braids. She glances away when he makes eye contact, moving her hands to pat down her bangs instead. After a few awkward seconds, Brooke settles her gaze on Blossom. _What a weird desk partner_ , he thinks, frowning. This semester is going to be annoying. "I hope I don't make a fool of myself by getting lost."

"Don't worry about it!" Does Blossom ever get tired of being cheery? He swears his face muscles ache just watching her smile all the time. "Lots of students get lost for the first few days. The teachers are pretty understanding. If you want, I can walk you to your next class."

"That'd be great! Oh, I had a question, if you don't mind answering?"

 _I do mind,_ _actually._ Brick eyes how Brandon leans against _his_ old desk.

"Not at all!" is Blossom's reply. Of course. "What is it?"

"The secretary was telling us about...emergency shelter locations?" Brooke pulls out a school map and written instructions, and smooths it out on the table. "The way she talked about them was different from fire and shelter-in-place drills."

"Emergency shelter locations?" Brick echoes, scanning the page. There's a few code words he doesn't recognize, but the classification system is one he can recite in his sleep. "Like, for monsters?"

His brow furrows. Now that the kid brings it up, he actually doesn't know how the school handles monster attack evacuations; he's out the window and in the sky before the second wave of tremors. A peek at Blossom shows the same confusion.

"Didn't you used to evacuate people?" he asks quietly, jostling her shoulder with his own. The Powerpuffs have been Townville's heroes for longer than he's been alive. "Middle school? You always stayed back to help."

"Yes, until the teachers developed a system so I could get out faster. I meant to check with the high school's evacuation system, but..." She trails off, lost in thought.

"Not like you to leave stones unturned. Figured you'd have the entire handbook memorized for weekend reading."

"Oh, shut up," she snaps, but there's no hostility in her words, only mild exasperation. She turns back to Brandon and Brooke. "Sorry, you'll have to ask someone else about that. Our friends might know more about the procedures."

Brandon's gaze flickers between them. Then his eyes brighten in understanding. "Utonium. Jojo. Aren't you guys are the Powerpuff Girls?"

"Nope, just her." Brick scowls, jabbing a thumb towards Blossom.

"Wow, it's so nice to meet you!" the twins say in unison and lean forward to each take Blossom's hands again. The adoration spills out of their eyes like a sewage break, and Brick feels smug satisfaction in seeing Blossom squirm uncomfortably.

"I don't know if you remember, but..."

"You saved our lives during our first week here!"

"You lifted a car out of the way and used fire breath to destroy the monster!"

"No, that wasn't me! That was―"

Brick. Definitely Brick. But he keeps his mouth shut, focusing on how Blossom's expression reddens in the face of the twins' enthusiasm.

Maybe he can legally change his name to Braeden. Then all will be right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's that, brick? you say you watch her smile all the time? just admit you're a nerd.
> 
> if you're familiar with my other works, you'll know i like writing collections of one-shots, and this is another one so no longfic plot. all the chapters in this story are loosely related and jump in time, but blossom and brick's relationship is generally more positive than hostile. whatever the big event was that got them to bond, it happened before this fic. lazy writing? maybe :3c anyway, if you liked this, please leave a review!
> 
> next chapter: feb 15, 2021


	3. Chapter 3

_2\. Her hair is fucking stupid._

* * *

In Townsville, there's a saying about how August can make even the Devil sweat. Brick can confirm this as fact―he lived with Him for a while, after all. Summer meant blasting all the Jojo air conditioners, going as far as diverting energy from Mojo Jojo's laboratory to the house's additional fans when he wasn't working, and as someone who runs hotter than the average human, Brick misses Him's whiny ways.

Most people think that Brick's internal fire source, which sits low in his chest and tastes a little funny when he burps, makes him immune to heat, and technically, the information isn't wrong―just outdated. It's the opposite now: high temperatures make him snappy and lethargic, and low temperatures are but a light buzz against his skin. During the summer, he bathes in ice-cold water, teeters on the edge of public indecency with his sleeveless tanks, and empties pharmacies of all their stick-on cold compresses. And while he's ready to melt under the sun, Blossom wears skinny jeans, unbothered. As soon as snow season starts, though, she becomes a walking pile of scarves and sweaters and socks. The story of how the switch happened is for another time, but every day, he gets a little closer to trying the Professor's hypothesis on extreme weather training.

Townsville summer often drags into late September, maybe early October if Brick is unlucky enough, and on this disgustingly warm, supposed-to-be-fucking-fall morning, Brick contemplates unprovoked Ruff-on-Puff violence for the first time since freshman year.

"Pink, I swear to fucking God, I am going to take shears to your head one day."

If you hold him at gunpoint and demand to know his favorite thing about Blossom Utonium, he'd say―again, only under duress―that his favorite thing is her hair. But at the moment, with her absurdly long mane pouring over his desk like liquid fire, he wants to grab the class safety scissors. Maybe use his laser eyes, whichever gets rid of it faster. He swats it off his notebook with a scowl.

"Oh, like you're one to talk," she snaps, reaching back to redo her ponytail.

She gives his own head a pointed glare, and he raises his eyebrows; being the last person in their row, he's not inconveniencing anyone else, and it barely brushes past his shoulders anyway. She turns towards the front again. Despite her attempt at piling her hair higher, the ends still swish over his notes.

"This is ridiculous," she mutters, trying to twist it into a bun, but the curse of having thick, waist-length hair: her head teeters dangerously, and the bun falls apart in her hands.

"I agree." He twirls a strand around his pencil and tugs, earning himself a sharp _Ow!_ and another glare. "Why don't you braid it or something? The loopy shits?"

"Bubbles usually does it, but she's on a field trip today." Blossom drops her chin into her palm with a huff. At this angle, he can't completely see her face, but it's as close as she's gotten to pouting.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means―" she blows at her bangs like it's the most obvious thing in the world and he's stupid, which they both know is untrue― "I can't put it in a braid."

"Because you don't know how to braid hair."

"Yes, that would typically impede one's ability to do so."

"Jeez, no need to get all Hermione Granger on me."

She whirls around. "I'm not―what are you _talking_ about? And before you start, I know what the reference is."

He waves in her general direction and says in his worst British accent, "It's the swotty, know-it-all tone. The sarcasm. What're you gonna do, spell me into next week?"

"Can you stop bothering me, Brick?"

"Alright, fine, don't get your knickers in a twist, piss-pants."

She turns back to her work, and he peers over her shoulder, waiting until she's mid-sentence to interrupt. Just to be _extra_ annoying.

"I could do it for you, y'know," he says nonchalantly and goes back to doodling the human digestive system. The small intestine is harder to draw than it looks. _Scritch-scratch. Scritch-scratch_.

He glances up to see Blossom throwing him a suspicious frown, which is fair. With their long hair, he and Blossom share the burden of being Bubbles's favorite practice models. Eventually, his eyes were opened; the skill was damn useful, so he practiced by himself until he could surprise the blue Utonium. Now she sends him Tiktok tutorials and hacks. Hell, she even calls them the Braidy Bunch and tries to actively recruit Boomer. Unfortunately for Boy Wonder, enthusiasm doesn't translate into talent. He makes the sloppiest French braids.

"I'm serious. Still can't do the fancy ones, but I can copy what Bubs does if you show me a picture."

Part of her ponytail is wound around his pencil again as she contemplates. She doesn't move away.

"I thought you said you were using this free period for bio homework," she finally says.

"I'll copy yours."

"No, you won't."

"Then I'll bully some kid into doing it."

"You can't do that!"

"I'm kidding, Bloss. Did you really just grab your necklace in shock?"

"Well, it's not funny. You're not funny."

"Ouch, you wound me. Thought you were supposed to be Everything Nice," he deadpans, hand over his heart. Corny as it is, the phrase is stitched onto the front of her sweater. "So you gonna take up my offer or not?"

Her eyes flit over his desk, a _No_ undoubtedly on the tip of her tongue, but she presses her lips into a straight line and nods. He closes his books, slipping them into his backpack for later. It's something he can do while walking between classes; people tend to walk around him in the halls anyway.

She takes out her signature bow and rolls black elastics onto his wrist. Her hands are cool against his overheated skin. He can't believe she's wearing a sweater and leggings when he's one wrong move away from a dress code violation.

"Be gentle," she warns softly.

"I will, don't worry."

When's the last time she got a haircut? He runs his fingers through the strands to untangle the knots, but there are none. Stupidly, infuriatingly perfect Powerpuffs. He tries to shake off the hair clinging to his hands. Stupid fire breath, stupid sweat, stupid―

"Hey, Pink, do the...can you do the thing again?" he grumbles, catching himself before he accidentally gives her an order like she's a Jojo.

"Huh? Oh, this?"

She turns to him, takes his hands in hers, and blows on them. Tiny snowflakes flutter and disappear immediately upon contact. A few seconds more and an icy layer forms, only to melt moments later. Like always, her ice breath is enough to cool him down, and he almost wants to ask her for more. September heat does weird things to his brain.

He thanks her rigidly.

"Are you still warm?" Her brow furrows. "You're not sick again, are you?"

"No. You'd see me sneezing fire if I was. Now c'mon, let me start."

With the locks no longer sticking to his skin, he creates a part down the middle and then sections each side into thirds. She's still doing her homework as she leans back in her seat, tilting her head for easier access. Her hair length is ridiculous. How does someone live like this? And how is it still so soft, no split ends, with all the monster fights they have? He weaves the strands into place, recreating Bubbles's favorite French braids.

Her little sighs of appreciation don't go unnoticed, especially with his super hearing. Scraping his nails along her scalp more deliberately, he watches her pencil grip slacken, tighten, and slacken again as he plaits down to the end and ties it off. She tilts her head to the other side, and he makes sure to work slower, brushing along the back of her neck at every chance. There's no way she's paying attention to her notes now.

Once he ties off the second braid, he flicks her shoulder, jolting her out of her trance.

"So whatcha think?" He gives a lopsided grin, crossing his arms behind his head. "Good enough for Ms. Perfect?"

She pats them down gently, avoiding his gaze. "They're...acceptable. Satisfactory. Thanks, Brick."

Relishing in her praise, he thinks this is a one-time thing. He doesn't expect her to corner him the next week and shove two hair ties into his chest, a furious blush on her cheeks. Through her stammering, he catches something about Bubbles being on another trip and it being too warm. The flimsiest lie he's ever heard.

A smirk grows on his face. "If you wanted me to touch you again," he drawls, threading his hand through the underside of her hair and tugging so that she meets his eyes. Her little surprised gasp goes straight to his ego. "You could've just said so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brick teasing blossom is one of my favorite things to read. they're so silly. kith already, you idiots. and i usually headcanon that, now that they're older and not 100% immune to everything, brick is immune to heat and blossom is immune to cold because of their powers. but for the sake of yin-yang symbolism and my shipping heart, i made them ~need the other~
> 
> again, if you liked, please review! and if you're a guest (or anyone!) that wants a quick response, i'm always on tumblr. you can find me @aerysian
> 
> next chapter: _she always smells like fresh fucking laundry._ feb 22, 2021


	4. Chapter 4

_3\. She always smells like fresh fucking laundry._

* * *

Sugar, spice, and everything nice is written in their DNA, and that's what most people expect the Powerpuff Girls to smell like. Brick isn't exactly sure what that's supposed to be. Snickerdoodle cookies? An open market? The nondescript hand soap found in high end hotels?

It doesn't matter because Brick can go on record and testify that the Utonium sisters smell like none of those, and _no_ , he's not going around sniffing girls like a total creep. He blames his heightened sense on the puppy dog tails in his blood, and he blames _that_ on Mojo. How'd he even get those ingredients in prison? And if he managed snips and snails and tails, why couldn't he order pizza or something?

But that's a different conversation, a series of questions that sends him spiraling into an existential crisis, so here are his thoughts on the Powerpuff Girls instead.

.

Bubbles uses perfume, which is probably obvious. She cycles through different brands, occasionally branching out to new ones, but when she smells like the same thing for weeks, it's clear she's found a new favorite. Sometimes she comes up to him in the hallway, twirls, and asks point-blank what he thinks of it. Like he's her personal perfumer or something. He tried being as prickly as possible, waving away the cloud of fragrance and sparkles, but her hidden super ability is being an even bigger pain in the ass than his brothers, so now he humors her inquiries with non-committal sounds that she somehow deciphers with a giggle and flip of blonde hair. Yeah, he doesn't understand it either.

She doesn't claim a top favorite, but she does have a special _good luck_ scent that transports you to a picturesque mountain cottage by a rolling grass field dotted with wildflowers and embellished with a clear blue sky. She had it on when Boomer asked her out, when they shared their first kiss (the admission of which made Brick promptly gag), when she got her first perfect test score, and when Blossom accidentally cursed on live television―which wasn't really a moment of good luck, but it was as unexpected as a meteor strike so Bubbles counts it anyway.

"Do you think Blossom will do it again if you use this?"

He nods at the bottle in her hands. He has the viral clips of the Puff leader's slip up somewhere in his Twitter likes, backed up on his computer, _and_ saved on an external hard-drive in case she manages to wipe it from the internet. It's not everyday you hear Townsville's uptight princess drop three F-bombs in one breath.

Two quick bursts of perfume. Brick tries not to sneeze.

"I wish for it every time!" Bubbles smiles brightly. A devil with a halo, this girl.

.

Buttercup smells like sweat and deodorant. Not in a bad way. Brick lives with Butch and knows quite well how gross sweat can be, but graced with the infuriating perfection that comes with being a Powerpuff Girl, Buttercup makes it work. It's her addiction to athletics. She's always on some field and never has an off-season―not that she competes, of course. Chemical X is apparently an unfair advantage. And when sports are paired with counterpart fistfights and saving the day, it isn't an exaggeration to say that she never runs out of things to do.

She used to piss him off by swinging her sticky arm around his shoulders, but Brick doesn't mind her smell anymore. Doesn't stop her from still trying by lifting her arms and shoving her armpits into his face, though, which is nasty on so many levels. He's just glad she's out of her excessive Axe spray phase, a phase Butch has yet to emerge from. The heady smell of sweat and Cool Rush deodorant suits the middle sister. It's satisfying at times, like _he's_ the one who runs a marathon before school every morning.

"Y'know, BC, I really thought you'd be the type to oversleep your alarms," he tells her once, leaning against the lockers and waiting for her to grab books. "Like you'd set seven of them and still get up two minutes before class starts."

"Used to. As if Leader Girl lets me anymore. She's worse than any alarm clock you have, trust me." She hefts the bookbag onto her shoulder and kicks her locker closed. "I only sleep in on weekends anyway. Weekdays, I get my exercise in the morning 'cuz school keeps me dumb busy."

"Sounds strangely responsible of you, but I guess that makes sense." He pauses, then snorts as they walk to class. "In another universe, you'd probably be a Rowdyruff."

"Fucking _ew_."

.

Blossom. She uses a bit of perfume for events, but otherwise, she smells like fresh linen and a hint of something he can never place. The mini Mojo Jojo in his brain runs itself ragged trying to figure it out; he's been called out in English plenty of time for not paying attention, too focused on deciding whether or not the elusive scent is Irish Spring soap.

And he doesn't know if this is a counterpart problem that arises from how he's genetically hard-wired to pay attention to her, but it's so damn _inconvenient_ how his brain short-circuits whenever she walks by, and it's even worse when his brothers are there and ready to clown him.

"What were you saying?" Boomer asks, fighting back a grin as Butch snickers into a hand. The sound is muffled, muted, distant.

Red eyes blink. "I, uh, I was saying―that our, ah, our ven―"

She flicks her hair over one shoulder, hitting him with another wave of sun-kissed cotton, and he involuntarily takes a deep breath, which drives tiny shocks down every single nerve ending. His gaze trails after her; she's dressed in pink again, cradling a book on quantum physics, the next topic of their two-person book club. She claims the third edition of Razul et al. is the best one, a blasphemous opinion he's determined to prove wrong.

"That our vending machine is coming and you paid for it 'cuz we're your favorite siblings?"

"Yes." His eyes snap back to his brothers. "Wait, no, shut the fuck up, Butch. No vending machines. I was going to say that our venture into graffiti art's gotta wait. Can't make enough to pay this month's bills and buy your spray paint supplies."

"Aw, but Boss, you promised!"

"You want it so bad, get a damn job, Butch. I'm doing my best."

"Being a hero sucks," Butch mutters, crossing his arms behind his head. "They don't pay us for shit but still make us pay for everything. Maybe we can move to Citiesville and go back to bank robbing...I'm _kidding_ , jeez."

"I hope so. We've changed―changed our ways to―to, uh―"

Why is she turning back around? His nose tickles. Legs straining to walk over to her, Brick's fingers clench around his bag strap. It's so, so, so stupid. Who's she waving at anyway? He follows her line of sight to the other end of the hall, to where some jock is waiting with a wrapped box.

"―to cut our ties to Mojo and―and to stop the―to prove―"

The monkey in his head is tripping over its own tail watching her smile and take the proffered gift. It's a book. Even at this distance, he can tell how nice it is: plush cover, gilded edges, satin bookmark. She flips through it, thumbing the pages like she's holding something precious, which is somewhat true. It's _Jane Eyre_ , one of her favorites― _why_ , he doesn't know. He hates it, can never get through more than a few pages at a time, but he's reading through the dumb thing for their book club. Only to tear the passages apart, not because she asked.

She's saying something he can't hear, and moments like these, he wishes their super hearing could sift through background noises. Instead, he's bombarded by the band practicing several doors down, the chatter of passing cheerleaders, and the bustle of students heading to lunch. His jaw clenches. He looks away.

"Anyway," he grits out, annoyed at himself for feeling annoyed and even more annoyed at Butch and Boomer for sharing knowing glances. They wisely keep their mouths shut. "No street art for now. When pay day comes, we'll see what happens."

As dishonorable as their past was, the Rowdyruff Boys had, still have, and will continue to have an honor code, and the number one rule is to have each other's back regardless of the situation. Butch and Boomer will always be Brick's first priority.

He rubs his thumbs against his temples, mentally calculating how they can budget their finances for another week between water, gas, internet, food. They weren't lacking, technically, just stretched thin after recent events. Brick can't even tell Blossom, even though she knows he's stressed about something. She'll get huffy and indignant like the goody two-shoes she is and march straight into the Mayor's office to demand a contract salary for Brick's family, which is both embarrassing and unneeded. Jojos don't beg. He might have to dip into his savings, though. The money sits in a shoe box under his bed, safe guarded by dirty boxers and dirtier socks.

Whatever. Brothers first, presents for counterpart second. The antique store owner will just have to hold onto that first edition _Anna Karenina_ copy for a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brick, baby, you know these aren't ~platonic feelings~, right? buying gifts? taking comfort in how she smells? being upset with some guy's presence? hmmm? AH, this was my favorite to write so far. and while the show made both sets of super siblings crazy OP, i like to put limits on their abilities. as always, if you liked, please review!
> 
> again, you can contact me and get fanfic updates at aerysian (tumblr)!
> 
> next chapter: _she's so fucking bossy._ mar 1, 2021


	5. Chapter 5

_4\. She's so fucking bossy._

* * *

"No, Brick, a little to the left."

He moves the string of lights, but Blossom gives another dissatisfied huff. Holding her thumb and forefinger to her eye and squinting, she repeats, "A _little_ , not that much."

Brick doesn't know why he bothered volunteering for Spring Fling set-up. His original plan was to sleep until the dance started. Take advantage of an empty house to nap without interruptions from annoying brothers because Bubbles and Buttercup being roped into helping meant Boomer and Butch were too.

Unlike them, Brick is blissfully unattached. No obligations that come with being a simp—uh, boyfriend—like Boomer. No owing the Puffs favors like Butch. As soon as the school bell rang, he was ready to drive home and jump into bed, but then Blossom cornered him at his stupidly placed locker, turned to him with those stupidly bright eyes, asked him to come along with a stupidly soft _Please_ , and well. Here he is. _Fuck_.

He lowers himself onto the ladder, top rung several feet too short for Blossom's ambitious vision of ceiling-hung vines and fairy lights.

"It's supposed to be a botanical garden," she said earlier. In front of them was a concept board with flower walls, outdoor weddings, and Farmsville landscapes. "I want to mimic the sunset."

"But why?"

"The sky is beautiful at that time, don't you think? Have you ever flown during sundown? Looked at the clouds and wanted to melt into them?"

"The first part, yes. The second, no."

She shrugged, then released her shoulders with a wistful sigh. "I dunno, I think it's romantic."

Which is an admission he'd expect from Bubbles, but coming from Blossom, he suddenly has an urge to bottle up the hues of the sky. Maybe wrangle the floating rock of fire straight into the gymnasium. He's not alone in the feeling; everyone's trying their best to replicate Blossom's mental image.

Across the gym, Bubbles and Robin arrange the photo wall with lights and drapes that look too expensive for their high school budget. Their heads are bent as they giggle about something or another; they're good at finding humor in the most mundane things. _Completely in their element,_ he notes, impressed by their work so far. Not far from them, Boomer carries flowers in by the armful, zipping through the open doors with Mitch's cart wheeling in more behind him. Butch helps Ms. Keane set up the front desk for sign-ins, face scrunched in focus as he tries not to swear in front of their favorite teacher. She keeps asking if he needs to use the bathroom, though. By the stage, Buttercup fiddles with wires and lets out a _whoop!_ once the system finally starts. Other students flutter about, but he doesn't care enough to know their names or what they're doing.

"There's more to put up, Brick, so can you finish that one faster?" Blossom pauses, then adds a reluctant _Please_ that rivals even Buttercup's spice.

He scowls down at her. Blossom looks so small from this height, a colorful bundle of copper hair and Mike's yellow sweatshirt. With her larger-than-life attitude and daunting reputation as Leader Girl, he forgets how short she is sometimes. How tiny. How young. How ridiculous it is that a group of six teenagers, superpowers aside, is all that stands between Townsville and total annihilation.

"Then tell me where to put it."

"I _told_ you. Move it to the left."

"Like this?"

"No, that's too far; it has to be perfect, or else it'll look uneven."

"I'm literally—" he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring with smoke as he suppresses a frustrated groan. "Bloss, there's no difference. I'm barely doing anything."

"Try...going down a little? Agh, never mind, that's going to make the dance floor too bright." It _won't_ , but whatever. "Can't you look at my diagram and try your best to match it?"

"Which diagram? The ridiculously complex one you made with a protractor, a T-square, and math equations? Or the completely unusable one that you scribbled with crayon?" He snorts. "You never graduated from Pokey Oaks kindergarten art class, huh?"

"First of all," she says with an indignant foot stomp, "it's colored pencil."

"That doesn't even matter!" Brick drags a palm down his face with another groan. "Listen, if you wanna nitpick so bad, why don't you do it, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question; he knows she can't. With one more muttered _Woe is me_ , Brick turns the fairy-light woven garland in his hands, getting ready to fly off the ladder again. His shoes have barely lifted off when he hears Blossom snap:

"Fine, I will."

His head whips to her. Spine straight, she eyes his position on the top rung with the _Get ready to eat your words, Brick_ look he knows too well. Defiant, challenging, and gets his blood pumping for a fight, but now is not the time.

What happens first: the sound of glass shattering against the gym floor once he drops the lights, or the sound of Blossom's squeak as he darts towards her, clamping down on both her shoulders with a rumbling snarl? He barely registers everyone's surprise, barely registers how quickly the noise fades into silence, as he gets in Blossom's face.

"Absolutely not." His near-growl is accompanied by a glare. Brows furrowed, her own glare mirrors his intensity, and he swears her eyes flicker between pink and red as she fights back laser eyes. "You're on strict no-fly orders until you recover."

She scoffs, releasing a few flurries from her mouth. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be lectured by a _Rowdyruff_ on following the rules. What was your response to me in the past? 'Rules are made to be broken'?"

"That applied to petty shit—"

"Like petty crime? Stealing from banks? Bullying others? Physical assault?" Her ice breath is coming out in earnest now. "Breaking into businesses? Causing mayhem? Destroying the town? World domination?"

"—not to doctor's orders," he finishes, bristling at her jabs. Fire is on the tip of his tongue, but she's frustrated and tired. He _gets_ it. Not being able to fly is disorienting. It comes as easy as breathing, something they don't have to think about until it's suddenly not an option anymore. Losing the freedom that comes with flying, it's like going through withdraws. "Just stay here. Keep telling me what to do, and I'll get it done. I'm here to help. We all are, okay?"

She glances around, suddenly aware of the eyes on them. From the stage, Buttercup shoots her a thumbs-up while Bubbles floats over with two carnations. It's a splash of blush pink that brightens Blossom's hair as Bubbles tucks one over her sister's ear. The other, Bubbles puts in her hands.

"You're stressed," Bubbles says softly, smoothing down Blossom's hair and frayed nerves. Blossom's fingers close around the flower stem. "You don't have anything to worry about. It's going to be _so_ pretty when we're done, Bloss, I promise. Everyone's going to love it."

"I just want the dance to be perfect. It's the first time they asked me to lead; I can't mess it up."

"Not everything turns out perfectly, and that's okay. If things always turn out the way we want them to, life gets a little boring, doesn't it?" Bubbles snuggles into Blossom's arms. "You wanna take a break? Hm? Get some food and water?"

"But everyone else—"

"—will be fine." Brick tilts his head towards the door. "Things won't burn down if you leave for ten minutes."

"Unless you sneeze."

That's a dumb joke. It's not funny. His short huff of a laugh isn't because it's a good quip.

Blossom purses her lips before untangling herself from her sister and stepping towards him. "Listen, about what I said. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He waves a hand in dismissal. "All of it was true anyway."

"No, I promised I wouldn't hold the past against you guys." She looks down at her hands, letting the carnation twirl between her fingers, and then hesitantly offers it to him. "I'm sorry. And thank you, Brick, for always having my back."

He plucks the flower out of her grasp and tucks it over her other ear. "If you really feel sorry, hurry up and go."

She nods, and as Bubbles leads her outside, chatter ebbs back into the room. Brick snaps at a nearby underclassman still frozen from the conflict. Poor kid's probably having flashbacks of a Greens fight. Butch and Buttercup have torn apart school grounds during their arguments, but he and Blossom have more control than that. Usually.

"Be useful and sweep this up." Brick gestures vaguely towards the strewn glass. "Who's the next person in charge? How do we get replacement lights?"

"Technically, Bubbles is second, and the third is Silas, but he's picking up extra supplies," the student says. They shuffle Blossom's drawings on the nearest table into a pile and pass them over. "You might need these."

He grunts in acknowledgement and flips through the sheets. God, these drawings are seriously on two ends of a spectrum. Still, he told her he'd do it, and he never breaks promises, not to her. Brick spins on his heel and raises his gaze—only to see Buttercup staring him down from the other side of the gym. At the eye contact, her lips curl into a satisfied smirk, and he doesn't know what to expect from the Green Powerpuff. He can guess, though, that with Blossom and Bubbles gone...

"Oi, Elmo, my turn to boss you around!"

"Oh, fuck _off_ , Buttercup!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually a heathen who writes in ffn's document manager, so when the site had all those connection issues last month, this chapter was lost so many times. i'd try to save and then it'd time out and then i'd be left with five (5) words out of nearly 2k. but that aside! i like brick's dynamic with the girls. i like buttercup and brick antagonizing each other. i like bubbles being emotionally mature when blossom gets overwhelmed by everyone's expectations. i like blossom losing her cool sometimes and falling to her pride. i like brick pretending to not be worried about his not-girl. what do you like?
> 
> check out my tumblr (aerysian) for some nmt!verse headcanons i posted! will post more if people are interested.
> 
> next chapter: _she has a fucking fan club._ mar 15, 2021


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